A Change of Time
by LucyOfNarnia
Summary: A time machine. Spot Conlon. A mysterious, but deadly stranger. Two young girls. All add up to be a suspenseful trip to 1900 New York, where murder, danger, and secrets lurk.
1. The Machine

_Note: Ha ha. I just HAD to write this. I've been holding off from posting new stories, but I just couldn't help myself. I saw all these other time travel fics, so I decided to write my own.. I hope you guys like it. It's a little fast paced, but why go on about blah blah stuff when we can go to something exciting! So please let me know what you think, and thanks for reading this. I'm also in the process of writing a Newsies fic called Place To Belong, and Co- authoring a story with Eruanna Undomiel, which is called Newsie Letters. Enjoy! Note-9/25/11- This chapter will be revised in the future._

A Change of Time Chapter One - The Machine

Sharron Duncan pulled her back pack high on her shoulder as she walked into her huge home.

"Dad, Maddie, I'm home!" Someone yelled something unintelligible from the basement, so Sharron sighed as she set her bag down. She walked into the kitchen, pulling an apple out of the refrigerator. Whistling, Sharron pushed open the basement door. Clattering noises came from below, as the fourteen year old happily skipped down the steps. Mr. Duncan was wearing a face protection, and holding a torch, welding something. Bill Duncan was an inventor. That explains the big house. Mr. Duncan was also pretty successful in selling his inventions to various buyers on the market.

"What are you up to dad?" Sharron asked, taking a seat beside her ten year old sister Maddy, who was watching the whole affair with much interest.

"His newest invention of course," the tiny, black haired girl said, smiling up at her big sister, blue eyes sparkling with fun loving mischief.

"Which is?" Sharron took a bite from her apple, watching curiously as her father set up the tall cylinder which seemed to have a door on the side.

"A time machine," her sister whispered. Sharron nearly choked on her apple bite.

" What?" she asked, swallowing the dangerous piece. Mr. Duncan turned around, lifting the metal protective visor.

"A time machine, Shar. I believe I've worked out the little kinks, now I'm perfecting the hardware. I've made it so fire, water, and who knows what else cannot hurt it. So how was the drama class?" Sharron was still staring confusedly at her father's newest attempt atinventing something spectacular. Slowly she pulled her eyes off of it to look into the laughing eyes of her father.

"It was good. I am getting a bit better I think, with the whole standing so the audience can see your face and everything." Mr. Duncan nodded.

"Your gonna look great when they decide to choose a play."

Sharron smiled. "Thanks dad." The two sisters sat watching their father for several minutes until he turned around.

"You know, I'm getting hungry. Before I do a test run, let's have some dinner." Maddy jumped off of her perch, excitedly beginning to run upstairs.

"Can we have pizza?" she squealed. Their dad grinned.

" Why not? This is a time to celebrate!" A frozen pizza was popped into the oven, and fifteen minutes later, the three sat at the dining room table.

"I- I've been practicing my cooking," Sharron said, taking a small bite from the cheese pizza. Mr. Duncan nodded, staring at his plate. The family hadn't had a real home cooked meal for a year. Since Mrs. Duncan died in a horrible automobile accident which killed seven people.

Maddy, always the ray of sunshine in the family smiled. "I'll learn to cook. I want to be an inventor like you though. dad."

Mr. Duncan laughed, then his face turned serious."Now Maddy, remember that inventing can be a dangerous job. Anything could happen."

Maddy nodded with understanding."Sure dad."

After a few minutes of silent eating, Mr. Duncan pushed himself away from the table. "Well, I'm off for a test run." Maddy scrambled from her seat, and her father smiled at her. "Alright Maddy, you can come.. But you have to promise to stay on the stairs okay?" The little girl nodded, and they began to walk off.

"Are you coming Shar?" the younger sister asked, eyes inquiring. Sharron shook her head.

"Naw, that's okay. I thought I would get some reading in." Maddy shrugged, and Sharron smiled running up the steps to the second floor. The girl walked into her cozy little room. It was perfect for a person who loves to read, or write for that matter. There was of course, a bed, and a desk in one corner with a lamp next to it for her writing. In another corner was a big, soft recliner, and bean bag. A lamp hung over them, and Sharron chose to sit in her bean bag chair. She picked up the book she had sat down when she last read.

After a few minutes she was caught up in the classic of Heidi. All of a sudden, the girl was pulled out of the Swiss alps by loud noises coming from the basement. After a short while, Sharron was convinced she smelled smoke. The girl frowned. Normally dad turned off inventions if they didn't work right away. That would explain the smoke. With a sigh of resignation, Sharron set Heidi down, and ran down the stairs to check on her father and sister. The smoke thickened as Sharron entered the concrete stairwell. As the acrid smoke entered her lungs, Sharron coughed. Now she was getting worried.

"Maddy? Dad?" she choked out, stumbling over something on the basement floor. Then she saw the red flames, licking from the section Mr. Duncan had apparently been working on. Fire fumed out of a broken pipe coming from the machine. A groan came from somewhere in the room, and Sharron turned, desperately searching for her father."Dad!" she cried when she spotted him. It seemed that part of the machine had blown off, hitting her father, and sending pieces all over the room. Mr. Duncan lay on the ground, unmoving. There was a large gash in his forehead.

_"Alright Maddy, you can come.. But you have to promise to stay on the stairs okay?"_

Her father's words came to Sharron's mind. She rushed back to the stairs, and there, looking unbelievably pale, Maddy sat, her arms around her knees. Sharron could hardly believe she had not seen her sister before. She decided the reason Maddy was extremely quiet was from the shock of the whole encounter."Come on Maddie, we've got to get out of here!" While Sharron had been busy with her father and sister, she did not notice the flames rapidly climb the walls. Suddenly, looking up, Sharron saw the basement door on fire. The only area that had not caught flame was around the front of the time machine.

_ "I've made it so fire, water, and who knows what else cannot hurt it."_

Sharron remembered about the machine. Though other things had proven to have been wrong with the mechanisms, the girl decided it was her family's only hope of survival.

"Help me, okay Maddy?" The little girl slowly nodded, and helped tug the arms of Mr. Duncan towards the machine. After tugging, pulling and pushing, the two finally arrived at the machine. The flames were getting higher, and closer. Sharron leaned down under her father's shoulder, pushing up with her back. Maddy did her part by lifting her dad's legs. When they finally got him in, Sharron looked up. The sight scared her half to death. The ceiling beams were burning, the flames licking down like all they wanted to do was consume this small family that had just recently recovered from tragedy.

"Get in!" Sharron yelled, pushing her little sister through the door. After she was in, Sharron climbed into the machine as well. Looking one more time at the basement, all of her father's other machines, now engulfed in fire. Then Sharron shut the door. She didn't notice the little timer next to the opening. The timer read May 16th, 1900. In a flash second, Sharron felt herself spinning, then she heard Maddy scream.


	2. Scrap, Duster, Bandit, and Tom

_Finally I've got this second chapter done. With all my school work and other stories it takes me a little while to update. LOL Anyways, the way the boy's language, well, that's my feeble attempt at accents. Thank you __**Eruanna Undomiel **__for being my beta!_

_Disclaimer: Do not own Newsies. I do own everybody in this chapter though. Well, Melody is actually owned by __**Eruanna Undomiel**__, but she's not really in here yet... ;)_

**A Change of Time Chapter 2 – Scrap, Duster, Bandit, and Tom**

Sharron's head was spinning, spinning too fast. She felt sick to her stomach, and wanted the machine to stop. Maddy's screams reverberated off the walls of the machine, continuing for what seemed like forever. Suddenly, it all stopped. In an instant, the spinning was gone, and Maddy quieted. Sharron clutched an iron bar inside the machine, letting the dizziness wear off.

"Wh…what happened?" Maddy asked, her eyes big. Sharron shook her hand.

" I don't know… but we need to get Dad some help." Maddy nodded, her face pale and her arms trembling. Sharron took a moment to draw her little sister into a comforting hug.

"It's gonna be okay. We'll just wait the fire out, and try to help Dad until the firemen come." Maddy stood up and pulled at a silver circle, similar to a gas tank cover. When she got it open, Sharron saw that it was a type of window. Maddy looked out, then her shoulders slumped a little. The girl turned around, looking at Sharron in wide-eyed silence.

"What is it?" Sharron asked, peeking out the window. She felt a shock wave hit her body. Instead of leaping flames, she was staring at brick walls.

"We're out of the basement," she said at last. "I think it's best that we find someone to help Dad. Maybe there's a hospital nearby or something." Sharron hesitated a moment before pulling open the door. Sunlight glinted in between two tall buildings, which were on either side of the machine. Sharron discovered she was in an alley. She turned back to the machine, and saw her father open his eyes.

"Dad!" she cried, grasping his hand. He flickered his eyes to her. They were filled with pain. "Are you feeling alright?" she asked quietly. He looked like he didn't want to answer.

"My… my legs. They are in a lot of pain." Sharron nodded fearfully. "I'll find some help!" she promised, and was about to leave, when her father stopped her.

"Shar, wait. We're not in 2010 anymore. The time machine, it worked… We're somewhere else…" Sharron tugged her father's arm. He was beginning to fall asleep, and Sharron suspected that more then his legs hurt.

"Like where, Dad?" The man didn't answer. His eyes were closed tightly and his lips were pressed in a line. Sharron sat back on her heels.

"Stay here, Maddy. I'm going to go find some help."

Scrap stood on his little corner, selling his papes. Usually the twinkle in his eye and the quirky grin he flashed at people, sold his papes like there was no tomorrow. Today, however, business was slow for the short eleven year old. He decided to sit down to rest a little after standing all day. The May weather was fine, sending slight bursts of wind rippling through the city. As Scrap looked on, he saw a very worried looking girl come out of an alley.

He watched her, fascinated, thinking she was quite pretty for a girl. She looked around frantically as if looking for something. He watched as her long, auburn hair fanned out behind her. Then something struck the boy that this girl was different. It was the clothes. She was dressed in a light blue blouse, and blue jean skirt. That was nothing that the girls in New York wore. After a couple of seconds, Scrap felt the strangest feeling, as if someone was telling him to help the girl. He ran over to her, she looked down at him, and he clearly saw the fear in her brown eyes.

"Can I help you miss?" he asked, anxious to offer his assistance. She gave him a feeble smile.

"Um. I'm not entirely sure what you can do… But my father… He's injured, and I need help getting him to a doctor." The boy nodded.

"I'll get help. Come with me!" Scrap grabbed her hand, and began to drag Sharron down the street. She followed him for the purpose of finding help for her injured father. Otherwise, she probably would have pulled away, because, of course, the young boy was a complete stranger. He stopped at another corner where three boys were talking. They were all quite tall, and around sixteen years of age.

"Hey! Duster! Tom! Bandit! This lady needs our help." The first boy, Duster, turned around, and apprised the girl Scrap had brought.

"What does she need?" he asked, not even talking to her.

"Um, her fadder is hurt," Scrap remembered. Duster nodded.

"Alright den, so I'm guessing you want us to help her carry her fadder to de doctah or sometin? Right?" Scrap nodded, and Duster shook his head. "It's a sellin' day Scrap. We don't have time to go helpin' goils!" Tom laid a hand on Duster's arm.

"Now, come on Duster. Da goil needs help, and we can't just let her leave with her fadder bad off, now can we?" The boy stuck his hands in his pockets. Tom grinned, then turned to Sharron.

"We'll help. We know a doctah who'll gladly take care of your fadder." Sharron smiled nervously.

"Thank you. He's right this way." As they hurried, Sharron studied her companions. They were dressed rather strange, looking as if they came out of a history book. Sharron shook her head and then glanced again. Duster, the one that didn't want to help, was walking proudly, with his hands in his pockets. He had dark hair, and when Sharron caught a glimpse of his face, she saw he had dark brown eyes as well. In fact, they almost seemed black. He was also tall, being around six-foot seven.

Tom, the willing helper, had twinkling blue eyes, and reddish hair. Freckles sprinkled his nose, and he seemed apt to smile. He was shorter, about five-foot six, which was taller than Sharron. He walked as if he enjoyed life.

The last boy, Bandit, was quiet. He had yet to speak. He had sandy blond hair (that needed to be cut) hanging around his ears. His green eyes searched the nooks and crannies of the streets, watching. He was in between Tom and Duster in height, being around six feet tall. He walked cautiously, expecting something to happen at any moment. Sharron found herself wondering at his nickname. What did it mean?

"Right in here," Sharron directed. They had come to the entrance of the alleyway. The boys quickly assessed the situation, while Maddy watched with wide eyes. Finally, Tom lifted Mr. Duncan's legs, Duster his shoulders, with Bandit and Scrap balancing things out. Then the six left the alley, carrying the father. Sharron was glad they didn't notice the time machine. She didn't even want to explain it.

After a few minutes, the boys reached a little town house. Scrap left the others and knocked. In a moment an older man wearing spectacles, vest, white cotton shirt, and grey flannel pants opened the door.

"Oh yes, come in boys...And girls, yes, come in." The young people followed him into a little room off of his hallway, and laid Mr. Duncan on a couch there. Sharron didn't understand this man. He was so friendly to them, and Tom had said he was a doctor. Didn't doctors wear fancy suits or something in this time? The girl was very unsure. After inspecting her father, the man turned to her and gave Sharron an encouraging smile.

"Your father has sustained several internal injuries. I don't understand what they're from, but I have a feeling I know how to treat them. I'm afraid your father has slipped into a coma though. He should be all right, but I believe he should stay here for a while. Just until I am done treating him." Sharron nodded slowly.

"How much do I owe you?"

The man waved his hand. "I won't take any payment until I'm satisfied with your father's recovery." Sharron nodded again. Hopefully her father carried some money on him. The four boys had been listening to the whole conversation, and suddenly Tom pulled Sharron aside.

"Do you have a place to stay?" he asked. Sharron looked at her feet. Could she tell him she was from the future and didn't even know where she was? She decided against it.

"No," she answered honestly, fiddling with her skirt.

"Well, then, you can stay with us." Sharron looked up hopefully. These boys, well, Tom and Scrap, were the only friends she really had here.

"Wait a second!" Duster exclaimed. He had been eavesdropping, and heard Tom's offer. "I don't tink Spot will take kindly to you doin' things behind his back." A shadow of fear crossed Tom's eyes. Then his wide smile replaced it.

"I don't think he'll mind. Besides, Melody will probably be on my side." Duster glared at him, but said no more. Sharron didn't bother to ask whom Melody or Spot were.

"I don't really want to leave Dad," she said, looking back on her father's still form. Tom patted her back.

"Let's not put any trouble on Doctah Williams. He knows where to reach us. I'm sure your fadder would want you to be rested." Sharron nodded wistfully.

"Come on, Maddy." The little girl walked over, and took Sharron's hand. As they left the building, Sharron looked at Tom.

"I just have one question." He grinned again.

"Name it." She inhaled air, feeling embarrassed to ask.

"Where are we?" Tom stared at her a moment, then let out a good-natured laugh.

"Where do you think? We're in Brooklyn, of course!"


	3. The Great Spot Conlon!

_Note: Okay, I hope I did okay with Spot. He's kinda hard to write isn't he? Well, that's his first appearance. Look for more in this story. Remember to let me know what you think. Thank you all my reviewers! You don't know how great it feels to get a review! Well, maybe you do, but still._

_Disclaimer: Newsies = not mine. Eruanna Undomiel owns Melody._

**A Change of Time Chapter 3 - The Great Spot Conlon!**

"Brooklyn?" Sharron asked in amazement, for she hadn't been reading the signs around town. Tom nodded, a curious look on his face.

"Yeah, Brooklyn. Territory of da great Spot Conlon!"

Sharron raised her eyebrow. "Who?"

Tom shifted nervously, and Duster watched her, his dark eyes filled with a sense of foreboding. "You'll see soon enough," he muttered. Maddy clasped Sharron's hand as Scrap tried to start a conversation with her. Question's filled Sharron's mind. If she was in Brooklyn, how did it happen? What year was it? The boy's dressed much differently then those in 2010. For that matter, in 2010 boys didn't sell newspapers on street corners.

"Can I see that?" the girl asked, indicating one of the newspapers held under Scrap's arm. He hesitated a moment, debating on whether to make her pay for the paper or just to let her look at it.

"Sure," he said, handing it over. Sharron scanned the top of the page for the date. May 16, 1900. Sharron gaped at the paper, and Tom watched her, even more curious. She handed the newspaper back to Scrap, and he tipped his hat to her. She smiled. Just then, Tom pulled Sharron and Maddy in front of him, while Duster and Bandit flanked their two sides. Scrap walked in front of them or beside them, whatever suited him.

"What's up?" Sharron asked, watching Bandit take out a pair of knives and practice slashing the air with them out of the corner of her eye. Tom grinned at her, but then was serious.

"Well, we are getting into da dangerous part of Brooklyn. Dis is de area you don't wanna go without one of us, understood?"

Sharron nodded carefully. "Why is it dangerous?" Tom shook his red head.

"Lotsa tings."

"Let's jus' say some folks don't mean well to girls," Duster commented. Bandit tossed his knife in the air and caught it.

"And dere are some boroughs dat don't take kindly to Brooklyn," he said, speaking for the first time. Duster pulled a slingshot out of his back pocket and started pulling the band back for practice.

"Like who?" Sharron asked inquisitively. Maddy was still holding her hand and though she wasn't speaking, she looked very interested.

Tom scratched his head. "Well, da Bronx ain't too happy wit us, and dere was some trouble stirrin' in Queens, and dere's probably some others." Sharron nodded slowly, not telling the boy she didn't understand most of what he said. All of a sudden, Maddy gave a little cry, and she tightened her hold on Sharron's hand. The older girl gave a little grunt at the pain. Then she looked around to see what Maddy was afraid of. Several boys were surrounding them, on either side of Bandit and Duster, who kept walking as if nothing were wrong.

"It's okay," Scrap consoled. "Dese are Brooklynites. Sorta givin' us a welcome, since we're dere buddies and all." Maddy nodded unsurely, letting her hand go a little bit.

"I'm telling' ya again, Tom. I don't know what Spot's gonna tink about dese girls." That look of fear once again seemed to cloud Tom's happy face. He shrugged his shoulders.

"We'll see." Then he turned to Sharron who was feeling bad, wondering if she'd get him into trouble. "We're gonna stop by de docks an' see what Spot tinks." Sharron slowly nodded, not all too eager to meet this notorious sounding Spot Conlon. The rest of the walk not a word was spoken. Sharron saw some sinister looking figures in the shadows and alleyways, but they didn't bother them. Probably considering the size of the group they would be confronting.

After a few more minutes, Sharron saw docks in the distance, and a sense of dread filled the girl. Maddy once again tightened her grip. She looked up at Sharron with her big blue eyes. Sharron smiled down at her softly, squeezing her hand gently. Maddy smiled back, and Sharron felt a little better. It was the first time her sister had smiled since they arrived.

"Here we are," Tom mumbled, pulling his hat off and leading Sharron down the dock. She chose to keep her head straight ahead after seeing boys swimming and climbing out of the water. It wasn't really something she wanted to look at. The other newsies who had joined them were gone now. Duster and Bandit also left, not wanting to face their leader.

The only ones left were Tom, Sharron, Maddy, and Scrap. The four of them approached a tall pile of crates. Sharron decided not to look up and waited, staring at her feet. A few awkward seconds passed and then the sound of feet hitting the docks filled her ears. Sharron looked up, and her eyes met by a pair of steel blue ones. She looked at the ground, scared of the frightening gaze. They eyes belonged to a boy who seemed only a few inches taller then her. He wore a gray cabbie hat on his head. He whistled softly then she could hear him move over to stand in front of Tom.

"Who are dese girls, Tom?" The cheerful boy was also looking at the ground and he cleared his throat, scuffing his shoes against the dock.

"'Dey are Sharron and Maddy." Sharron could almost see Spot's irritated look. She risked a look and was relieved to see he was very close to Tom, in his face, in an intimidating manner.

"And who do ' Sharron and Maddy' happen to be?" Tom gulped.

"Well, ya see Spot, dese two girls, dere fadder was hurt real bad. Dey didn't have a place to stay so I thought ya might let 'em stay at da lodgin' house Spot stared Tom in the eyes, until the latter looked down again.

"What makes you tink dat" Tom looked up again, and Sharron almost saw a sparkle of fun in his eye.

"Well, 'cause everyone knows how kind, and helpful the great Spot Conlon is to da ladies." Spot smirked. Sharron would come to know that smirk to well.

"Well, you've almost convinced me. But I 'ave my doubts." He rested a hand on his chin, and turned his steely eyes back on the two sisters, raising one eyebrow. Sharron shivered under his gaze, his eyes met hers again and he was smirking.

"Let 'em stay Spotty!" a voice cried, pushing through the onlookers. Spot frowned at the person, but didn't show any sign that he would give them a beating. He did, however, look rather irritated, and Sharron guessed it was from the use of the term Spotty.

"For what reason, Mel?" he asked, crossing his arms. A blonde, wavy-haired girl broke through the crowd, crossing her arms at the same time. It struck Sharron funny and she let out the slightest of giggles. Both Brooklynites turned, glaring. She cleared her throat, pulling Maddy behind her, once again looking down. The other two resumed their stances.

"Da reason is dat I like 'em. And plus dere girls. Dey can stay in my room." Spot stared at the girl and she stared back. That's when Sharron caught the resemblance. They were siblings and twins too, it looked like. They had the same dirty blond hair and blue eyes. The two were probably only a year or so older then Sharron.

"Fine," Spot muttered angrily. Then he turned to Tom. "I need to have a talk wid you 'bout askin' me 'fore ya act." Tom nodded fearfully. Spot turned once more, and smirked at Sharron, for a reason she was completely unaware of. Spot's sister walked towards them and smiled.

"Hi! I'm Melody. Welcome!"


	4. Melody's Room

_Note: Sorry for taking so long! Here is Chapter Four, finally! Let me know what you think! And there's another bit of Conlon for you Spot lovers! ;) (Aren't we all?)_

**A Change of Time Chapter 4 - Melody's Room**

"Follow me," Melody instructed, leading the way up a flight of steps in the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House.

"This is the boys room," she said, pointing to the right once they reached a landing with three doors. "Up there's the attic," she continued, pointing to the door straight ahead. "And this is my room." With that, the girl turned the knob of the left hand door, and pushed it open. Sharron and Maddy shuffled it, looking around the room. There was a bed with a thin mattress, with a chair and washstand nearby. On the wall hung a newspaper clipping with the headline, "Children's Crusade: Newsies Stop The World."

"It ain't the mayors house, but it'll do," Melody said. There were a few other odds and ends around the room, including a ball of string, and a candle, but nothing much.

"I think there's an extra bed in the attic, and we can put it there," Spot's sister continued, pointing to an empty corner. "Don't know where we'll put the little one yet, though," she said, looking over at Maddy. Sharron, when she was not on stage or reading a book, was a very practical girl. So now, she was thinking of how she would feed Maddy and herself while in this place.

"Do you know any jobs that I could do to earn money?" she asked.

Melody thought for a moment, "I work at one of the factories, but it's not such a great job," she said, then a light came into her eyes. "I've got it! Can you cook?" Fond memories of being in the kitchen with her mother filled Sharron's head. She nodded. The girl hadn't done any cooking since her mother's death. It was tender to her heart, but now she knew if she had to cook for a job she would do it.

"Well," Melody said, "The bakery down the street is looking for someone who can do some baking, and stand behind the counter. Interested?" Sharron almost blurted out, But I'm only fourteen. But she held her peace. "And Maddy," Melody said, fingering one of the girl's pigtails. "Maddy can sell with one of the boys." but at Sharron's alarmed look, she hurried to assure her. "One of the trusted ones, maybe Scrap. You've met him, so it should be easier. Would you like to sell newspapers?" Melody asked the small girl. Maddy thought about it, then slowly nodded. "Great!" Melody exclaimed, "Just make yourselves at home. I'm gonna go take care of somethin'." When the girl was gone Sharron and Maddy shared a long hug.

"It's going to be fine, just you wait," Sharron said, smiling fondly at her little sister. "And just look at this adventure we're having! Dad's going to be fine. Just you wait and see." Maddy smiled.

"Does Spot Conlon scare you?" Maddy asked.

Sharron thought for a moment. "I guess so, but he's a strange case, isn't he?"

Maddy giggled. "Yes, very strange!" The little girl said, making a face. There's was suddenly the sound of a clearing throat behind them, and Sharron's face grew ashen as she turned. Her eyes were once again by stormy blue ones.

"Sp- Spot," she said, stumbling over her words. The boy did not look at all pleased. His cane was in his belt loop, and his slingshot in the back pocket of his pants, but he still looked... annoyed. Wait, annoyed?

"Bettah be careful what ya say," he said icily. Maddy paled, and he looked down on her. Sharron was surprised to see his gaze soften ever so slightly. "Okay?" he asked the small girl, bending over a little bit. Sharron stifled a giggle, but a few sounds still slipped out. Spot rapidly turned, whipping out his cane in the process.

"What?" he asked coldly.

Sharron put her arms behind her back. "Nothing."

Spot tapped his cane on the floor. "That's right, nothin'. That's what you saw. Don't speak a woid of dis to anyone," he said, motioning towards Maddy as he said 'this'. Sharron found herself feeling quite confused about Spot Conlon, but she said nothing else. Spot slipped his cane back through his belt loop. "Remembah," he said sternly, locking eyes with Sharron. With that he turned on his heel and left. Sharron sunk onto Melody's bed, feeling drained.

"Why is it so different here?" Maddy asked, leaning her head on her hand.

"I don't know, but it is years before our time, so of course things are different." Maddy nodded, satisfied for now. Sharron's first night in Brooklyn was a strange one. Maddy was able to share a bed with Sharron for the time being, but that wasn't the strange part. Several times she woke to hear boys arguing, and joking among themselves.

_Don't they ever go to sleep?_ she thought. Then, she happened to look out the window and she saw a shadowy figure walking into the street. Sharron caught the glimpse of gold from a street lamp, and she was sure it was Spot Conlon.

_Wonder what he's up to_, she thought absently, but soon fell asleep again. Melody had promised to take her to the bakery in the morning.


	5. A New Mission

_Note: Well here it is! I've finally updated! Yay! So, please check my profile for details about the Christmas contest I'm having with Austra. Please write a little one shot for it! I will give you lots and lots of cookies (or pickles!)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own nuttin (Cept all the characters but Melody and Spot lol)_

**A Change Of Time Chapter 6 – New Mission**

The next day when Melody took Sharron to the bakery, Maddy watched her leave with a forlorn expression on her face. Sharron only hoped Scrap could cheer her up.

"Denville's Bakery is the best," Melody said. "They always give the newsies good prices too."

When the duo reached the bakery, Melody approached a plump woman who stood behind the counter.

"Hi, Mrs. Denville," the girl said casually. The woman nodded, acknowledging Melody's presence. "So, I was wondering if that job spot was still open." Mrs. Denville looked at the girl shrewdly.

"Why? You wan it?" she asked in a heavily accented Scottish voice. Melody grinned.

"No, no. Definitely not! You know I can't cook Mrs. Denville!" The woman shrugged.

"You could larn (learn)." Melody just laughed, shaking her head.

"I already have a job, though this one is probably much better. Anyway, I was wonderin' if my friend here could have the job." Mrs. Denville looked behind Melody, and raised her eyebrows at Sharron' s appearance.

"She dresses mighty strange," she commented. Melody hurriedly interceded,

"Oh, she'll have some new clothing soon I'll warrant." In truth, Melody had noticed the way Lillith dressed as well. Most girls wore skirts to the floor, or at least the ankle. Sharron wore a skirt made of _blue jean_ which only extended a few inches past her knee. Mrs. Denville shrugged, and motioned Sharron towards the counter.

"Can ya cook lass?" Sharron felt a flush of embarrassment redden her cheeks. Sure, she had baked and cooked quite a few things in her life. But last year she had stopped.

"Well, a bit, but I'm a fast learner." This seemed to strike the Scotswoman as funny because she let out an uproarious burst of laughter.

"She can back a wee bit, and she's a fast larner! Melody my lass, looks like she's got ye beat!" Melody smiled good naturedly, and Sharron wondered how her demeanor could be the complete opposite of Spot's. Of course she hadn't know either of them for long..

Mrs. Denville addressed Melody with her next statement.

"I like your friend Melody. Job starts at nine tomorrow sharp!"

"Thank ya Mrs. Denville!"

"No trouble lassie."

When the two girls were once again outside, Sharron felt a smile tug up the corners of her mouth, and before long she let out an irrepressible giggle. Melody glanced at her curiously.

"That was..interesting," Sharron said.

"You're lucky," the other girl informed. "Mrs. Denville doesn't take a quick liking to everyone."

"Oh? Why doesn't she?"

"I don't know," Mel said with a shrug of the shoulders. "At any rate, I know I'm hungry, should've picked up something at the bakery."

"There's a vendor." Sharron didn't need to be from 1900 to know the man selling hot dogs was a vendor. Melody fingered the few coins in her pocket, then approached the man.

"Good morning sir! Two please."

Sharron interjected, "I don't need one." Melody ignored her, and got two anyway. After she paid for it, and the two girls walked away, Sharron decided to put forth her question.

"Why'd you do that?" Melody's piercing blue eyes seemed to see right through her.

"You didn't eat all morning. I know you're hungry." Sharron simply looked away. She didn't want to make Melody pay for her food. It didn't seem right. Even in her short time here, Sharron knew that these kids barely made a living. "Just eat it. You can buy me lunch sometime," Melody urged. Sharron looked up, smiling.

"That's a promise," she affirmed.

On the way home Sharron had asked Melody if she could visit her father for a few minutes. The other girl offered no objection, so she hurried to the doctor's house. She had learned his name was Doctor Brown, and he was a man with a home practice, who apparently had dedicated his life to the poor of New York. When she knocked he smiled kindly.

"Here to see your father?" he asked. Sharron nodded. "He's not awake yet, but you can talk to him. I believe patients may be able to hear and understand others even while they are comatose."

"Thank you Doctor Brown."

"It isn't a problem." When Melody was asked to come in she refrained, saying that she preferred to stay outside for the time being.

"I'll let you two be alone," Dr. Brown said, shutting the door to the parlor room. Sharron walked over the couch, and sat down on a little stool positioned by it. Apparently the doctor had been keeping a faithful vigil over her father. The girl picked up Ben Duncan's hand, and stared at it. He had always been so invincible, those hands were so strong! How could such a good man as her father have something bad like this happen to him? Ben Duncan, who always tried to make the world a better place, that's who her father was.

"Hey dad," Sharron said in a cracked voice. She cleared her throat a bit nervously. "I uh, I'm a little scared. I don't know what to do. I wish you could help me. But dad, I need to be strong. I need to be strong for Maddy. I just feel so unsure of myself.." Sharron drew in a breath sharply as her father clutched her hand, and his eyes popped open.

"Shar, listen to me."

"What is it daddy?"

"Listen. The machine.. we're here for a reason."

"A reason?"

"Yes. You have a task to do.. I programmed the machine to run the first time to go to a time where someone needed help.." Mr. Duncan faded out, going back into his coma.

"Daddy!" Sharron sobbed. Dr. Brown burst into the room.

"What's the matter?"

"He-he talked to me." Dr. Brown smiled.

"Well this is great news! Your father has come out of his coma once. In a few days he should be out of it completely. Don't be sad dear girl." Sharron smiled slightly.

"Thanks."

As Sharron and Melody approached the lodging house, they heard laughter from inside. Peeking in, Sharron observed Maddy and Scrap playing Maddy's favorite game-charades. The young girl had even coerced some of the older boys into joining the game. Spot sat drinking something, and amused glint in his eye. Sharron just smiled to see Maddy laughing. Then the feeling of despair filled her again. Everything depended on her. Now she had some mission to do, and she didn't know who she was supposed to help! How would things turn out right?

_Note: Mrs. Denville married an american, that's why her last name isn't Scottish._


	6. Back To The Machine

_Note: hehe. Hi everyone! So I haven't posted in forever! So here you are. I apoligize for the lateness. But now big things are planned for this story, and the real action kinda starts the next chappie! Please stick with me, I have a busy life, but I will still try to make time for all of my readers. I anticipate the next chapter coming sooner. :) Thanks for your support!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, just the Duncan family, and the plot of this story, and so on and so forth._

**A Change of Time Chapter 6 - Back To The Machine**

Sharon nervously walked beside Melody, twisting the skirt she wore, Melody's only spare. Apparently Sharon's clothing was too strange, and her skirt too short to wear to her new job. Though her friend had already done much for her, Melody had insisted on her wearing it.

"Stop worrying!" the blond said, laughing good-naturedly. "You'll do fine."

"I hope so," Sharon said, blowing a piece of chestnut hair out of her face, and pushing it into her braid. "I hope I can do it. I don't know if Mrs. Denville likes me." Melody burst out laughing again at this statement.

"My dear, if you don't think Mrs. Denville likes you.. well, it's pretty obvious to me. You just have to get to know her. It's just her personality." Sharon nodded uncertainly.

The two girls continued to the bakery in almost complete silence.

When they reached the door of the brick building Sharon would be working at, she pushed it open slowly. Mrs. Denville looked up from behind the counter. Her face lit up into a wide smile.

"Sharon lass, welcome!" The large Scottish woman hurried to the girl, enveloping her into a smothering hug. Sharon didn't have much time to figure out why the woman's attitude had changed because Mrs. Denville was already talking, as Melody waved goodbye.

"Now you will be helping out behind the counter," Mrs. Denville instructed. "Later I may move you to ovens, but since it's your first day, we'll start you off simply." It didn't take long for Sharron to figure out what she was supposed to be doing, and by five o'clock, when she left work; she found that she actually enjoyed it.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It had never occurred to Sharon that the answers to her questions might lie in the machine. When she finally thought about it, she realized that it would wise to check out, especially if she had to figure out the reason she was here.

That evening not long after she was back from work, she finally thought about it. "Maddy," she said, brushing her long brown hair with a hairbrush Melody had lent her. "I want to go to the place where the machine is today." The little girl nodded solemnly, it was too solemn for a ten year old.

Sharon took her sister's hand, and they walked out of the bedroom, and down the stairs. Before they reached the bottom, however, Sharon noticed an obstacle to their plan. Spot Conlon leaned against the lodging house door, arms crossed, with a self-satisfied smirk covering his lips. Sharon waited for him to move, but when he didn't, she tried to open the door. He promptly took his cane and shoved it in her way, smacking her outstretched hand in the process.

"Ow!" she complained, rubbing the offended fingers. "What was that for?" The boy just kept smirking, as if he knew he didn't have to answer to her. She placed a hand on her hip, staring daggers into his direction. When he refused to budge, she gave an exasperated sigh, and dragged Maddie away.

She remembered there being a backdoor in the place. Looking around, Sharon finally found it, in the back, of course. When she finally reached it, she shoved it open, triumphantly. Almost instantly her face changed from an exuberant smile to an angry frown. The metamorphosis was a comical sight, but none of the people present thought the situation was comical at all. Spot Conlon, was, of course, standing outside the door, having crossed around the front from the main entrance in almost creepy swiftness.

"Are you going to let me by?" she asked in a clipped tone, forgetting her first fear of the Brooklyn leader in the heat of the moment. He studied his fingernails, as if he were ignoring her, but still blocking the doorway. Sharon decided to try something else.

"Melody says you don't hit girls, so what was that for?" Spot's blue eyes met hers, then, to her chagrin, his lip turned upward.

"Naw. I don't hit ladies. Now sometimes some littul kids need ta be corrected.." he stared pointedly at the red mark forming on her right hand. She put it behind her back, glaring at him.

"Yeah, well, you aren't my father, so please let me by!" Spot frowned; taking a stance that clearly said he was not going to be moved. "Look, what do you want me to do?" Sharon asked, spreading her hands apart in a gesture of surrender.

"Well, I ken see dat you'se was goin out.." here he shook his head, and actually grinned, as if he couldn't believe her naivety.

"So what?" she asked carefully.

"So you aren't goin' out alone, simple as dat."

"Well, who's going to solve that problem?" she said rolling her eyes. "Melody is off helping someone sell the evening edition, and most of the newsies are gone too. In fact, you're about the only newsie I've seen around."  
"I'll come with you," Spot said simply. Sharon stared.

"What?"

"I said I'd come with you'se," Spot tapped the ground twice with his cane before tucking it into his belt loop. "And I mean ta do it." Sharon sighed.

"I-I changed my mind," and with that, Sharon grabbed Maddie's hand and ran back up to Melody's room.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was probably ten o'clock when Sharon opened the bedroom door as quietly as possible. Melody and Maddie were sleeping, but she could hear the boy's across the hall, making a ruckus. With silent steps, the girl crept down the stairs, and she was relieved to see that Spot Conlon did not stand at the door of the lodging house. She creaked it open, and stepped into the warm night. She walked along, and suddenly, she felt a bit fearful. It wasn't a wise thing for a girl to be alone at night in Brooklyn; it was something she knew very well. But sometime between her encounter with Spot, and this moment, she had realized that this was something she needed to do alone.

Trusting her memory not to fail her, Sharon traced her steps back to the dark alley where the machine was located, keeping in the dark shadows. When she finally found the area, she hurried to the machine. Creaking open the door she went in, and closed it behind her.

Sharon studied the panels and buttons before her, trying to figure out what to do. She noticed a keyboard of some kind, and ran her fingers over the letters on it. She wasn't sure what to type. Finally she said pressed some keys, and what she typed came up on a thin rectangle in front of her. _Melody Conlon.._

The machine started to buzz and beep, and instead of how it had been the first time, now Sharon saw images flashing on the screen of Melody, accompanied by words.

_Melody Conlon had no trouble herself_

Sharon didn't understand it, but she quickly typed in something new, after which she stared at the screen, wondering why she had typed it.

_Spot Conlon. _Suddenly images were flashing again, these ones even swifter, and Sharon could not keep up with them. Then the machine started to turn, and the screen flashed red. Sharon spun around to look at the little timer by the door.

_May 21st 1900. _

Mr. Duncan had said that the machine was programmed to go where help was needed. Did something happen to Spot on May 21st 1900? Sharon waited with baited breath while the machine slowly came to a stop, then the door opened. She was staring into another alley, and there she saw three figures.. and one of them was holding a gun.


	7. Shadowed Figure

_Note: Hey guys! This chapter came pretty quick. I actually loved writing this chappie. I hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Things are really heating up. I've really developed the story line since I started writing this. It's getting exciting! Tell me what you guys think!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, or Spot Conlon._

**A Change of Time Chapter 7 – Shadowed Figure**

Spot Conlon was holding a gun. He raised it, pointing the deadly weapon at a tall figure standing in the shadows. When Sharron looked closely, she realized there was another figure besides the three she had initially seen. This figure was bending over the prostrate form of the third person she had noticed when she first arrived.

"You animal," Spot said in a raised voice, his eyes cold points of ice, filled with a frightening hatred. The hunched over figure lifted its head, it's eyes wide. That's when Sharron realized it was a girl. And a moment later, she realized something that made her head pound.

She impulsively fell back, holding in the scream that wished to escape. As she fell, she accidentally hit a button by the door, and it automatically shut. The timer changed back to what the girl assumed was her departure time. As the spinning commenced, all Sharron could do was stare at the metal time machine door. A bitter taste filled her mouth as the truth sank in. The bent figure had been none other then herself.

Sharron found herself escaping the machine as quickly as she could. She choked in a breath of cool night air as she stumbled from the metal contraption.

All she wanted to do was fall down in a bed somewhere and forget everything she'd seen. But Sharron knew she couldn't forget. The scene that had been taking place in front of her would happen in just a few days. She didn't understand everything, but she could still see the figure on the ground, herself, Spot, and the shadowy form.

The girl shivered as she thought of the utter hatred in Spot's eyes. She knew what her mission was, at least partly. She needed to figure out just what was going to happen, and why.

Sharron felt a drop of sweat trickle down her neck. Finding answers would probably require entering the machine, and watching the scene play out in its entirety. She shuddered at the thought. It held no appeal for the girl.

Sharron pulled herself to her feet on the corner of a building next to the alley. She'd seen enough for tonight. Tomorrow she could visit her father, and if he were conscious, discuss what she had seen. Sharron crossed her arms in an assuring gesture to herself as she started to make her way back to the lodging house. She turned her head slightly to the left, glancing briefly across the road.

That's when she saw it. A small orange glow pierced the darkness, followed by a stream of pale smoke that wafted toward her on the night breeze. Suddenly, the girl felt that she was in the worst danger, and completely helpless.

She turned around again; facing away from the glow, which evidence told her was someone smoking a cigarette. Sharron began to walk, and winced as her shoes on the cobblestones produced a rather loud noise. She tried to walk softer while retaining her pace.

The girl cast a glance back, and saw the light of the cigarette moving closer, before she heard the clomping of boots trailing behind her. Drawing in a deep breath, she increased the speed of her walk. When she again looked behind her shoulder, she saw a man in the light of a street lamp.

He wore a long coat that reached almost to his ankles. Large black boots enveloped his feet, and a hat swathed his face in shadow. What she could see of his countenance was stony, void of emotion. His eyes were hard.

A gust of wind blew the man's coat open, and Sharron saw the glint of a handgun in the light he had now passed. She gasped, and increased her speed further, actually running now.

As her feet flew over the street, an unsettling thought entered her mind, and the extent of what it could mean caused a lump of fear to form in her stomach. The handgun was black, and though she didn't know what model, or much about guns at all, one thing was clear. The weapon concealed in the man's clothing was not from this time. It was most definitely from the twenty-first century.

In her haste, Sharron tripped on the worn road, and skinned her knee. As she scrambled to her feet, the scrape on her knee throbbing, she saw the man quickly closing the distance between them.

The thought struck that he may have been playing a game with her. He would follow, letting her run as fast as she wished, knowing full well that he would catch up. It was a cat and mouse game. But apparently the man was done playing.

He pulled the gun out from inside his jacket, but didn't point it. Instead, he kept walking towards her, his steely eyes focused. Those eyes, they were so..evil. A shiver ran up Sharron's spine as she realized it. They were the eyes of a killer.

Sharron sprinted away, realizing the lodging house was still probably a few blocks away. She would never make it. Her hazel eyes roamed the street, trying to decide on an effective coarse of action.

Finally her gaze rested on a small opening off of the street. It might be a dead end, or perhaps a side street. Without much else of an idea, Sharron decided to take her chances. She hurriedly entered the gap, and was pleased to see a small opening leading out on the other side.

Sharron decided she might try to trick the man in the long coat. As footsteps approached, the girl slipped behind a jumbled stack of crates, some of which were broken. She heard crunching as the man's feet crushed the remnants of a glass bottle.

Sharron peered through the slots of one of the crates, and found she could see the man. She saw his eyes rove the alley, and she watched with apprehension as he looked behind a stack of boxes on the far wall. She held her breath. Would he check here next?

Instead, she saw the man drop his cigarette to the ground, putting it out with his black boots. At last he disappeared out of the alley's exit, probably thinking he was pursuing Sharron.

The girl breathed a sight of relief. She was right here. When Sharron knew the cost was clear, she came out from her hiding place, and ran the last blocks to the newsboy's home.


	8. Learning

_ Note: Heheh *scratches head guiltily* sorry for taking sooo long to update. I know this chapter is probably super confusing, so feel free to let me know what you think._

**A Change of Time Chapter 8 - Learning **

Sharron pushed the lodging house door open, inwardly cringing as it creaked. She climbed the stairs slowly, trying to avoid making more noises. As she stepped towards Melody's room, a shadow disengaged itself from the wall. A match flickered, and suddenly Sharron was face to face with Spot Conlon.

"Where were you'se?" he questioned, reminding Sharron of one of those cop movies with an interrogation room.

"Uh.." For some reason, the girl couldn't the image of him holding a gun out of her head.

Spot tapped his foot impatiently. Some people might have been intimidated, but to Sharron he just looked like a spoiled kid wanting ice cream. But Spot Conlon knew what he was doing; of this she was quite aware. The boy shook his head in disappointment.

"It's dangerous out dere," he proclaimed. "Don't do it again." His eyes were serious. He meant business.

X-X-X-X

Sharron awoke with a cold sweat on her forehead. She had been dreaming. In her dream, she was in a dark street, cluttered with the bodies of those she cared about. As a shudder took hold of her body, Sharron quickly dressed herself. Maddie lay on the bed, her dark hair spilling over her face as she clutched the bed sheets. Sharron smiled, braiding back her strawberry blond locks as she watched her sister.

"Oh, you're awake!" Melody said pleasantly from the doorway. She wore an apron, and wisps of her light hair curled around her face, while something that suspiciously resembled batter of some kind was splattered on her forehead and apron. Sharron surveyed her with astonished eyes.

"Melody… have you been _cooking?_" Melody's cheeks brightened.

"Attempting to," she admitted, plopping down unceremoniously on the bed Maddy did not occupy. Sharron raised an eyebrow, gingerly sitting beside her.

"So, what were you making?"

Melody blushed again. "Hotcakes. I picked up some ingredients yesterday, but something just isn't turning out right.."

"Show me." Melody led the other girl down the steps, and into a small kitchen behind the sign up desk, which was surprisingly empty. "Mr. Timmons doesn't come in till eight," Melody explained. "Okay, here we are."

Sharron surveyed the kitchen with wide eyes. It appeared as if a tornado had blown through the room. Pancake batter was spread on various surfaces, and flour coated the counter. Melody scratched her head, an embarrassed smile stretching her lips.

"I-uh made a bit of a mess as well."

Sharron smiled. "Well, we'll clean this up, but first, show me a pancake..er.. hotcake."

Melody picked up the flattest pancake Sharron had ever seen, and that was saying something.

"I just don't know what it's missing," Melody mused, thinking deeply.

"Well, name the ingredients that you used." Sharron made a mental check list of the things that goin pancakes, checking them off as her friend named them.

"And eggs," Melody finished.

"Is that it?" Sharron questioned, surprised.

"Um, yeah, that's it."

Sharron couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Well, apparently you've forgotten the baking soda."

Melody wrinkled her nose. "Oh. I think I saw something about that.. but I didn't think it was so important."

Sharron quickly began her explanation. "Melody, baking soda is the important ingredient that causes hotcakes to rise and be so fluffy and good."

"Oh," Melody said, then burst into laughter. "Silly me."

"No, you just didn't know any better. But remember to follow the recipe next time. But I suppose I should be starting off soon. I want to stop in to see my dad."

"Good idea," Melody said in agreement just as Spot walked in the door.

"Well let's go," he said impatiently. Sharron couldn't help raising an eyebrow. Melody watched curiously.

"I'll uh.. just clean this mess up," she said/

"Wait-" Sharron yelped as Spot dragged her from the room. Melody laughed merrily as her friend disappeared from sightl

"Okay, let me go, mister," Sharron huffed, tugging her arm from Spot's tight hold. He smirked, and she had the sudden urge to slap him. So she did. For just the shortest moment after her hand connected with his cheek, surprise flickered in his stormy eyes.

A moment later, it was replaced with sudden fury. He gripped her arms tightly, and leaned in so that his breath was hot on her face.

"Never do that again," he growled, his eyes terrible with menace. Sharron tried to pull away, but he held fast. "Be glad no one saw that," the boy said, and finally released her arms.

"Sharron rubbed her limbs, surprised to find that she was slightly afraid. He had seemed so angry…

"Come on," Spot ordered, pushing open the front door. Sharron followed unhappily.

"So.. where were you last night?" Spot asked casually as they walked, almost as if the confrontation had never happened. Sharron eyed him, feeling confused. He turned to face her, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know if I should tell you," she responded stiffly. "You might give me a beating."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sharron saw Spot's body give a slight jerk, and for a second shock registered on his face, then he turned cold again.

"I ain't my father," she heard him mutter quietly. The two didn't speak again all the way to the doctor's house.

"Your father is awake. I fed him some soup," doctor Brown said as he led them to the sick room. Sharron was surprised that Spot had followed her in, but she didn't say a word.

Mr. Duncan tried to sit up as soon as he saw her enter the room, but doctor Brown rushed forward to stop him. "Now you just rest easy," Brown said, leaning Mr. Duncan back onto his pillow.

"Shar," her father breathed, reaching toward her weakly. She hurried to his side, kneeling next to the couch.

"Dad.." she said, her eyes wide. How could she tell him everything that had happened, and receive answers to her questions? She glanced behind her. Spot was still lurking in the doorway. In a low voice she began to explain to her father about the time machine. He stared at Spot when Sharron explained in a soft voice who he was. The leader of Brooklyn returned the stare, crossing his arms. Mr. Duncan returned his gaze to Sharron.

"Is he dangerous?" he whispered. Sharron's forehead wrinkled.

She thought of how Spot had gripped her arms that morning, and his many threats.. "I don't think he would hurt Maddy or me intentionally." Her father nodded. "I don't understand the machine," the girl blurted out. "I found a keyboard, like I told you, and typed in names, but I don't understand."

Mr. Duncan now wore his "teacher" expression. "You know the little gizmo with the year?" Sharron nodded slowly. "Well, if you just enter the year it will take you to a random place days, weeks, even months before the important task it has for you is to be completed. Now right next to this is a small screen that you can use to choose _where_ to go. Now, when we left 2010, the year and area were unintentionally selected."

"But what about the keyboard?" Sharron asked a little louder then she intended. She felt foolish, looking back at Spot, wondering if he had heard her words. Spot, for his part looked perplexed.

_Duh! He doesn't know what a keyboard is.. _Sharron chided herself. Mr. Duncan looked at her proudly.

"A very good question. Now, the keyboard is special. You can type in a person's name, and if it already has the year entered, then anything important or out of the ordinary that might have happened to that person will come up on the computer and the machine will take you to that place and time."

Sharron nodded. All this tech stuff was so confusing.. "Why was I able to see myself?" she asked curiously.

"That one is easy. The computer is programmed to show you what happened. If you were in the event you will be able to see yourself, just as if you were watching a movie. Now, when you use the programmed method you can see everything, but no one else can see you."

"How come people could see us when we came?"

"Because you didn't use the keyboard the first times. I also have a switch under one of the metal panels next to the keyboard that has two buttons. Listen closely in case you ever need to use it. The red button will keep it how I programmed it- you can see yourself. The blue button underneath it will make you_ in_ the time. You wouldn't see yourself, you would actually be there experiencing it."

Sharron digested the information as her father coughed. "I don't know if I'll use it.." she said.

"I'm not sure if it would be wise if you did," Mr. Duncan said seriously, a hint of worry in his eyes. "This story you have told, it doesn't sit well with me. If I could leave this couch I'd try to figure things out. Be careful Sharron."

The girl decided against her better judgment not to tell her father about the man who followed her down the street, the man with the gun in his pocket.

_Note_: _I know it's quite hard to find good stories in the Newsies fandom, some I'm going to start posting the names of stories I think are worth reading. First.. We Run The Papes by Kristin Erin. The classic strike story with a twist. Summary: **"The papes run the town and we run the papes. Everyone needs the papes, we just remind 'em why." Al finished with a Cheshire grin. It isn't easy being Jack Kelly's sister, but things are about to get much harder for the newsies and Alison Kelly. David/OC**_


	9. I Am Not A Monster

_Note: This chapter is a bit strange, maybe. Let me guys know, and let me know if you think this should be T. I don't want to write anything too bad, so I didn't go into all too much detail. _

_**Important! Pegasus M is holding the "Summer Reading List" Fanfiction awards. The nomination period ends October 2, so I would appreciate muchly any nominations. The voting period starts Oct. 6. The link to the awards site is on my profile.**  
_

_ Disclaimer: I don't own Spot Conlon or the movie Newsies, and I don't own the amazing Keith Green song "My Eyes Are Dry" Check him out on youtube. His story is really sad, but he spent his life for God once he was saved._

**A Change of Time Chapter 9 - Not a Monster**

Spot would not leave Sharron's side until she entered the bakery. Did he somehow know what had happened the previous night? And if so, how? Pushing these thoughts aside, the girl approached the unmanned counter. "Hello?" she called, "Mrs. Denville?"

She heard footsteps, and the stout woman appeared from a doorway behind the counter. "Sharron!" she exclaimed, pleased, as if she hadn't been expecting her or she was invited to tea. "You're two minutes early," the Scottish woman observed, checking an old pocket watch. "Punctuality is a valuable trait." Sharron slowly nodded. "Well enough lollygaggin'," Mrs. Denville said, holding up a white apron. "Your new uniform," she explained, a twinkle in her eye.

Sharron took the garment, fingering its course, but sturdy material. "Thank you." She said, unsure, not knowing what else to say. The girl hung the neck strap over her head, before tying the apron strings around her waist. It fit perfectly, and Mrs. Denville nodded approvingly. "Did you make it?" Sharron asked in curiosity.

"Last night," the baker woman confirmed with a quick nod. Sharron couldn't help but think of the wonderment of it all. The woman hadn't even measured her! True, it was just an apron, but perhaps Mrs. Denville was more than just a baker.

The woman "tsked" at the clothes Sharron still wore. The girl had borrowed Melody's extra day dress one morning so she could wash her clothes, and now she was back in the more modern blue jean skirt. "You need some new clothes, I think I have some extra fabric.." Mrs. Denville said thoughtfully. Sharron blushed crimson. Surely Mrs. Denville wouldn't make her clothing as well?

_If she does, I'll do something in return, to pay her back._

"Well, I'm glad you're here, lass. I've been having a bit of trouble going between the bakery and the counter."

"What can I do?" Sharron asked, willing to work.

Mrs. Denville smiled, appreciating her eagerness. "Well, I suppose you can stand out here and call me if a customer comes in?"

"Yes ma'am, of course."

The woman pulled a broom from out of nowhere. "Can ya sweep?" Sharron nodded, and took the cleaning instrument from the woman's hand.

"Alright, I'm going to go put some honey rolls in the oven. Keep watch now!"

Sharron set to work, sweeping the dirt into the street, before softly singing a tune.

_"My eyes are dry, my faith is old, my heart is hard, my prayers are cold. But I know how I ought to be. Alive to You, and dead to me." _

It was one of the girl's favorite songs about becoming closer to the Lord, and she loved the tune. She continued humming out as she worked.

X-X

Spot walked to the distribution center, his thoughts troubled. Why did he even care about this girl and her family? He had met dozens of silly dolls, and he could have cared less about them! A doll was a doll. All they seemed to care about was pretty dresses. Melody didn't count though. In Spot's mind, she was one of the guys. It didn't occur to him that his little sister was growing up. Sharron though, this young girl who wore strange clothes and acted abnormally- compared to his standards, she seemed different.

Who in their right mind ever talked back to the King of Brooklyn? Melody was the only person who had ever gotten away with it without at least a black eye. Here Spot was, wasting birds that could be spying on Queens or Coney Island. But that chilling story he had heard.. The bird hadn't been able to see quite so well, but he had mentioned a man trailing her. The thought struck Spot that he had the perfect reason to "waste" his birds. They were watching her, making sure she wasn't a spy, or someone with the wrong intentions. A bird wasn't watching her now, as Spot had walked her to work.

"Heya Spot!" Tom greeted, approaching from the gates of the distribution center. "They're just openin' up," he informed. Spot nodded, and as the gates swung open, his boys made a path for him. He was leader. He went first. It was simple.

After purchasing one hundred papes, Spot glanced at the headlines, boring as usual. Spot walked as he sold almost effortlessly, and other newsboys wondered if there was more of a secret behind his selling then improving the headline. The young man's thoughts returned to the strange girl. Yes she had talked back to him. Spot frowned. An internal pain tore at his heart. How could he have lost it liked that? He remembered gripping her arms so tightly, threatening her like.. like him.

The boy finished selling his papers as a war raged within him, then began heading back to the lodging house. _I wouldn't have done it, _he reasoned, as memories long buried fought to resurface.

"_Son, you're going to be a great man," Patrick Conlon said, smiling stiffly. Devon felt uncomfortable. He didn't often see his father. He was usually off on one of his boats, fishing, sailing, and earning money. When he was home, most of his time was spent in the bar chugging down pints of whiskey. Now, the ten year old noticed, the rank odor of the despicable stuff wafted on his breath. "Just like your father." Devon refrained from speaking, and at that moment a screech tore through the air, breaking the silence. Devon recognized Melody's voice, and hurried for the kitchen, his father on his heels. The little girl stood in tears, a glass plate shattered around her feet, her lower lip trembling. "What happened?" Mr. Conlon demanded. Melody sniffled as her mother patted her shoulder._

"_I-I was tryin' to make lunch," she said, more tears gathering in her eyes._

"_It's alright dear," Mrs. Conlon assured, her soft brown eyes filled with love. _

"_Is that your grandmother's plate?" Patrick asked, as he tried to make sense of the fragments that swam in his disoriented vision. _

"_Yes," Melody whispered. _

"_WHAT?" Grandma Conlon had died earlier that year, and the plate was one of the last things they had to remember her by. Rage inspired by the drink filled the man, and Melody shrank back against her mother. _

"_Honey, it'll be alright," she said, trying to calm her husband. He responded with his fist, smashing his wife in the eye with a painful blow. She reeled back for a moment._

"_Oh honey!" Patrick said, remorse filling him. "I didn't mean to."_

That's what he had always said. "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to." On and on and on. But "I didn't mean to," didn't fix the black eye that colored the woman's face for two weeks. And it always grew worse; the hits grew more frequent, and increased in number. He had never laid a single hand on his children, but anything they did wrong caused pain for their mother. Spot had walked on eggshells, trying to keep his father from being angry. It had grown so bad that the man would abuse her even when not on drink. One night, it had all ended.

_Devon didn't know why his father was angry that night. He heard him yelling at his mother, Irene, through the paper thin walls. The then twelve year old was able to determine something had happened on one of the fishing trips, and Mr. Conlon would not be returning to the ocean. That was when he heard the scream. More terrified than any he had ever heard, more frightening, it caused a deep dread to fill his heart. It was his mother. She had never cried out before. Not in all the times Patrick had taken his fists against her. Not once. Melody stirred in her bed, rubbing her eyes before looking at him, scared. _

"_What's going on?" she asked, though she really didn't have to._

"_Da's home," Devon said grimly. A silence filled the air that frightened the boy even more then the scream. He walked to his parents' door and listened for a moment, while Melody whimpered behind him. No noise leaked from his parents room. He carefully pushed the door open. First he saw his father sitting hunched on the bed, cradling his head and weeping, blood staining his hands. Devon froze, but his eyes traveled down to an unmovable lump lying on the floor. _

"_I'm sorry," sobbed Patrick Conlon. "I didn't mean to." Devon ignored his father, rushing to his mother's side._

"_Ma?" he asked softly, staring at the bruises forming all over her visible skin, and the blood leaking from her dark blond hair. The woman weakly lifted her hand, touching his face, before her arm dropped to her side, a peace coming over her face. "Ma," he said again. "No ma, don't go!" _

_Patrick's wails grew louder, and Melody padded into the room, screaming at the blood, and the sight of her mother. She joined Devon at their mother's side, smoothing her hair back, begging her to be alright. But it was already too late. At last, Devon gently wrenched his sister's hands from Irene's soft hair, and pulled her to her feet. He walked from the room, taking his sister with him. As they passed her father, he whispered, almost inaudibly, "I didn't mean to."_

_At that moment, Devon felt a deep sickness in his stomach. I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to. Irene had been a Christian. Yet she had still been killed. Then and there, Devon gave up the belief in God that his sister would cling to._

"_Come on Mel," the boy said. They left their father, crying in the room, and walked straight to the police department. _

Spot stared into the mirror in the bathroom, studying his reflection. He had inherited his mother's dark blond hair, but the shape of the face, the chisel of the jaw, the ice blue of the eyes. They were his father's.

_"I don't know if I should tell you," Sharron had said. "You might give me a beating."_

_I am not my father, _Spot thought. "I am not a monster!"


	10. The Back Room

_Note: Here's chapter 10! A very special thanks to Austra, Eruanna Undomiel, and Morgan Jacobs for your amazing reviews! Thanks so much!_

**A Change of Time Chapter 10 - The Back Room  
**

Sharron stood behind the counter, wiping the wooden surface down with a dusty rag. They had been fortunate to have quite an inflow of customers before lunch, but now the numbers were beginning to dwindle.

Sharron really enjoyed the job. There was time when there weren't any customers, and no cleaning to be done, when she could just drift into her own thoughts, and try to figure out this whole time travel mystery. She didn't consider herself a science genius like her father, but she did have more then half a brain. She had eventually grown mentally tired, and looked for small tasks she had happened to miss. Perhaps she would bring a book next time.

Mrs. Denville walked from the back room, untying her apron and hanging it on a peg. "I'm going to pick up some lunch for us," the woman said, her face scarlet from the heat of the oven. "If someone comes in, I've got most any cakes or breads they may want. If the food they're requirin' ain't under the counter, then it'll be in the back. If someone is wantin' to make an order for later, just write their name on the tablet," she said swiftly, indicating a pad of paper laying on the counter, alongside a pen.

Sharron could hardly hide her surprise. "You trust me to take care of the shop?"

Mrs. Denville laughed. "I wouldna have asked ya if I dinna trust ya!" she said.

"Well.. I don't really know how to use a cash register," Sharron admitted tentatively, gesturing towards the old crank handle machine sitting on the counter.

"Well, I'll teach ya then," Mrs. Denville said pleasantly, waving off the matter. In a few short minutes time, Sharron understood the mechanics of the old device rather well, and she patted the handle happily. She grinned at Mrs. Denville, very much pleased, and the older woman couldn't help but smile back.

"I'll take good care of the shop while you're gone," Sharron promised, as out of the corner of her eye, she saw the rag almost beckoning to her. She was surprised to find that her fingers were just itching to take up the cleaning tool, and find any spots that didn't gleam with cleanliness.

"Good. Well, I will see ya soon lass. Remember how to work the register!"

"I will," the girl replied certainly. The woman nodded once again, lingered a moment, than finally pushed open the door as the bells tinkled merrily.

Sharron picked up the smudgy cloth, and stared at the glass front of the counter, behind which sat the prettiest tea cakes, nicest muffins, and most tantalizing sweetbreads you ever laid eyes on.

_The glass could use a polishing, _she decided, glancing at the rag she clutched. _But not with this dirty old thing._

Sharron deliberated for a moment. _There might be some rags in the back, _she speculated, tucking the cloth into a drawer attached to the backside of the counter. Sharron started into the back room hesitantly. Surely Mrs. Denville wouldn't mind. After all, she _had_ said that anything a customer would need that was not found in the display case, would quite likely be in the back.

Inhaling the scent of hot bakes goods, feeling the heat touch her exposed skin, Sharron stepped into the room. Looking around, she blinked a few times, Two large ovens sat against the back wall, and though the heat wasn't at its greatest, it was still sweat inducing. Against another wall were the excess baked goods, most of which sat atop stone bread warmers, as customers rather liked their food hot. Sharron figured that the stones were placed in the ovens to be heated, thus making them effective. Beside the variety of cakes and breads was brown wrapping paper, and string.

Despite the heat, and the fact that there were no windows, Sharron found she rather liked it here. The strong, pleasant blend of hot bread, honey, cinnamon, and all other flavors attacked Sharron's senses in the best way. Here, with the smell of fine cooking all around her, the girl almost fancied she was back in the kitchen with her mother; baking a loaf of bread, or a chocolate cake for Maddy's birthday. Sharron turned from the sight, and quickly wiped at a tear that had mingled with a drop of sweat rolling down her cheek.

_Do no dwell on the past, _she told herself. _Even if the present is painful._

"Now, where would a rag be?" she asked aloud, scanning the entirety of the room until her eyes rested on a cabinet set against the last remaining wall. It was a fine cabinet; tall and stately, made of sound wood, and stained a dark, pleasing shade of brown. Sharron tapped the glossy surface thoughtfully. Would it be an invasion of privacy to search inside? _Oh, I hope Mrs. Denville won't mind! _She first opened one of the doors that had delicate carvings running up and down along the sides. Sharron took the contents in quickly; piles of letters, tied together by varying lengths of twins, some photographs of a young woman who might have been Mrs. Denville, and a young gentleman around the same age.

Sharron closed the doors, an uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of her stomach that said if she continued looking at these things she _would _be invading her employer's privacy. Sharron stared at two drawers beneath the doors, wondering to herself if she should take a peek, and continue her search. Making up her mind, Sharron pulled open the bottom drawer to reveal sewing supplies of all sorts: Thread, needles, even some fabric. Pushing the door shut, Sharron pulled open the one above it. She let a satisfied smile grow on her lips as she surveyed the drawers contents. Contained inside was a feather duster, several rags, and other such useful tools, including a large brush for if any painting was required.

Sharron snatched up one of the clean rags, and tucked it into her pocket. Just then, she heard the jangling of bells. _A customer! _she thought frantically, hurrying towards the front of the shop.

X-X-X

"Con men taking over- how to protect yourself from the tricksters!" Scrap yelled, animatedly waving a paper over his head. Maddy sat on a small crate they had discovered in an alley with her chin propped on her hand. Her eyes darted to and fro, studying those milling about. She glanced across the street, and a shiver danced up her spine. A man in a long trench coat and fedora stood like a statue, watching, cigarette clenched in his teeth, arms crossed. Maddy shivered. She didn't like the man or his stare.

Scrap shoved his old cap back, wiping his forehead, before glancing down at Maddy. "You okay?" he asked at her expression, concern lacing his voice.

"Yeah," she said, pulling her eyes away from the strange man. "There's just some guy staring at me.."

"What?" Scrap glanced around, but failed to find anyone dressed abnormally or staring, except for Maddy herself. "Well, he's gone now. Don't worry.. you're safe with me."

Maddy grinned at him. "I know."

X-X-X

He melted into the background, ignoring the congested crowd. There were too many people around.. the timing wasn't right. The little newsboy would be easy enough to handle, but it would have to happen later. He would come back though, it was only a matter of _time_.

_Note: Any thoughts?_

_**Important! The voting is about to start for the Newsies Summer Reading List Fanfiction Awards, the link is on my profile. Also, nominations are happening NOW for the NYNA. I would be so honored to be nominated! This link is also on my profile.**_

_ Story to read: Newsie Letters by Eruanna Undomiel (and myself) :P  
_


	11. Almost Time

_Note: *Waves sheepishly* Hehe, hey ya'll. Yes, I know I'm horrible. I am going to try to be a better updater, but I'm just super busy. Thank you to all my faithful readers, you make my day! Special thanks to Mayarin and Austra, my AMAZING reviewers from last chapter. :D_

**A Change of Time Chapter 11 - Almost Time**

Sharron traveled the last few steps to the counter with a friendly smile decorating her face. She stopped dead in her tracks, and her smile quickly fled when she caught sight of who was waiting.

"Hello Sharron."

Her throat felt constricted like it was held in a vise. "Who are you," she managed to stutter out.

He chuckled darkly, pulling his hat off to reveal thick black hair flowing past his ears, and dark, penetrating eyes. "Who do you think I am?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow quizzically.

Sharron felt dizzy. She steadied herself against the counter, and stared at the man, breathing heavily. It was like a nightmare. "I-." She fumbled with one of the counter's drawers, hoping against hope to find something with which to defend herself. "How do you know my name?" she asked, trying the best to stall while slamming a drawer full of papers and pencils shut.

"I know a lot of things about you," he replied.

Sharron felt a cold finger crawling up her spine, and a strange taste in her mouth, a taste she had felt more then once. Was this…fear? But that was silly. She didn't even know this man. How could she be sure he meant to bring her harm? Sharron felt relief wash over her as she closed her fingers around a letter opener.

"Yes, lots and lots."

"Look," she said, eying the sinister figure before her, "I don't know who you are, and I don't know what you ant, so can you just order something, and leave me alone?"

He chuckled again, and reached out long, pale fingers to gently tug one of the locks of her reddish hair. At that moment she was strongly tempted to stab his hand with the letter opener, and attempt and escape from the bakery. Instead, she pushed his fingers aside with her free hand, and glared.

"I can't do that, Sharron," he said softly. "I would advise you to drop the letter opener, though. You might hurt someone."

Sharron glanced at the sharp instrument clutched in her sweaty hand. Somehow the man knew exactly what she had. Of course she hadn't been exactly discreet in her search. Should she threaten him with it? Actually stab him in the shoulder? She felt queasy at the very thought of hurting someone. She had never done anything like it before, and it certainly didn't seem very Christ-like. Then again, it was self-defense, wasn't it?

"Drop it, Sharron," he said, his tone louder in pitch as if he was nervous, or worried. Sharron was surprised that he had shown any emotion at all. The man reached into his long, gray coat, withdrawing a black handgun. Sharron gasped, and a trickle of sweat rolled down her neck, and into her shirt collar. "It's a little hot in here, don't you think?" he remarked, tapping the gun against his hand in an almost playful manner.

She breathed heavily. _What's going on? Why is this happening? Who is this guy? _The questions seemed to scream at her, and she wanted to cover her ears in effort to dim their cacophony. _I gotta get out of here_, she decided, making her choice. Attempting to be careful, and unexpected, she slashed the letter opener in the air a few inches from the man's nose, hoping to cause some sort of intimidation so she could make her escape.

In a flash, the man used his unhindered hand to grasp her wrist, restricting it tightly. She gasped again, and tried to wiggle her fingers without success. His lip curled up, and with a quick, precise motion, he sharply turned her wrist, causing her to lose grip on the letter opener, and sending it flinging across the room. It hit the wall with a dull thump.

Sharron screamed in pain, and grasped her wrist as soon as he released it. Her brain was telling her body that her wrist was broken, though she hopefully it was just a sprain. Still, the pain was severe.

"That wasn't very smart," he remarked casually, lifting the gun again. Now, come around from the counter. It looks like you're off work today. You're coming with me." Sharron backed away, towards door to the ovens, and the man sighed. "You're only wasting my time." He stepped toward her.

X-X-X-X-X

Spot glanced in the mirror, and was relieved to see that all traces of his grief had disappeared. He walked slowly down the steps, and into the main room, and was surprised to find a young newsie waiting for him. He immediately straightened his posture.

"Sp-Spot?" the boy asked, his eyes wide as he looked up at his respected leader.

"Yeah, what is it kid?" he responded distantly.

"I got news-bout da girl."

The leader turned his head sharply, all of his abstract thoughts falling into place. He remembered, the kids name was Tuck, and he was the newest bird, only eight years old. Spot has asked him to keep an eye on Sharron.

"What news, Tuck?"

The child's face curled up like he was sucking something sour, and Spot thought for a moment that he would cry-that would certainly be unlike one of his newsies! Instead, he sneezed, and Spot decided he would have to remind Timmons that the area needed dusting.

"Sorry," Tuck said. "But it's bad!"

"What is?" Spot asked, feeling confused, but not showing it.

"I saw a man in a gray coat and dark hat go in the shop. I ran here right away. I think something bad is gonna happen!"

Spot nodded. "Good work, Tuck." He left the lodging house in a brisk walk, before it turned into a jog. He felt his back pocket to make sure he had his slingshot, and stones enough to fight any man.

He was about half a block away, when he heard the scream, filled with pain. It hurt the boy just thinking about it, and he had to block the mental image of his mother from his mind. Spot took off in a full out run to reach the store before something really bad did happen.

X-X-X-X

The man watched from the shadows as the girl and her little protector gathered up their excess papers, laughing and smiling as they did so. He grew a small smile of his own as he blew out a stream of smoke from his cigar. They wouldn't smile and laugh very long. It gave him a warm feeling just thinking about it. They were going home. It was almost time.

_So...creepy? What's ya'lls opinions? I'd love a review :)_


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